


The Random Jottings of the Reverend Donald Smollet

by maiden_aunt (SCFrankles)



Category: Dear Ladies
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mild Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7211135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/maiden_aunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rev. Smollet writes in the parish magazine about one of the more memorable church fetes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Random Jottings of the Reverend Donald Smollet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosied/gifts).



Well, now, my dear friends and parishioners. It seems a gap has opened up unexpectedly in the parish magazine. So the current acting editor, Dr. Hinge, has asked me to step in and fill her void. And I am delighted to do so.

The Doctor did suggest I might like to talk about the recent church fete. This appeared at first glance a most excellent proposal but after some thought, I realised an article on this subject might be somewhat dull. After all, this year’s event went unexpectedly smoothly and most of my readers will have actually been in attendance.

No, I have decided to go back a few years and talk about another fete…

 

 

As you all know, our esteemed editor’s companion Dame Hilda Bracket is usually in charge of the refreshments. But this particular year she and Dr. Hinge had come up with a different and rather splendid idea.

“We’re going to be a jukebox,” said Dame Hilda.

“I… see.”

I fear my confusion must have been only too apparent because the Doctor quickly jumped in to explain.

She smiled at me in some amusement. “A _human_ jukebox, Donald. People will make their selections from a list, pay us 25 pence, and then we will perform the song.”

“Ah.” I beamed at her. “That is indeed a wonderful notion, Evadne.”

“We thought we could perform in the tea tent,” added Dame Hilda. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to move the church hall’s piano.”

“That is true.” I smiled at them both. “And I don’t expect you dear ladies to have to do it.”

“No?” said Dame Hilda.

“No, indeed,” I said. “I’m sure Cressida and I can manage my upright between us.”

I think possibly Dame Hilda and the Doctor may have exchanged a worried look at my statement. It is of course so like them to be concerned about a friend’s well-being.

 

 

However, on the day, Cressida and I were able to move the piano with no problems whatsoever, and Dame Hilda and the Doctor arrived soon after we had got it into position inside the tent.

“Gorgeous weather!” smiled Dr. Hinge.

“Isn’t it?” said Cressida. “It’s going to attract so many people to the fete. And we’re bound to have a run on refreshments!”

“You’re bound to be busy, yes…” Dame Hilda gave her an awkward smile. “I do hope you don’t mind that I’m not helping out this year.”

My dear wife beamed at her. “Of course not, Hilda. I’m sure we can cope.”

Cressida’s fellow servers were in fact arriving and she took herself off to begin sorting out and preparing the food and drink.

Dr. Hinge sat down at the piano and played a few scales, listening attentively to the instrument’s sound while Dame Hilda rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a sheet of paper.

“Our list of songs, Donald. Would you care to take a look?”

I took the list from her and scanned the page. “This is quite marvellous, Hilda!”

The list did indeed cover an impressive number of shows, light operas and operettas and I quickly spotted a favourite. I looked up.

“I wonder if I might have the privilege of purchasing the first song.”

Dame Hilda beamed at me. “Of course, dear.”

She turned to the Doctor. “Whip your box out, dear.”

The Doctor frowned at her. Then her face cleared.

“Oh, yes!”

She produced a small, plain wooden box with a slot in the top and stood up to put it on top of the piano. She settled herself on the stool again. “There you are, Donald!”

I found 25p in my pocket and dropped it into the box.

Dame Hilda smiled at me. “So what’ll it be?”

“‘I Sit In The Sun’, please,” I said.

“Ah, ‘Salad Days’. Lovely.” And with a wave of her hand to Evadne, Hilda began.

They were only halfway through when my wife returned to us and raised her hand to get Dame Hilda’s attention.

She smiled apologetically. “Sorry to interrupt you, Hilda but I was wondering where the tea was.”

Dame Hilda stared at her.

“The tea, dear..?”

Cressida’s smile wavered somewhat. “Yes. I mean, I’ve brought the orange squash as usual. Mrs. Shanks has brought the fruit juices. Miss Primly has brought the pop. And you’ve brought the tea.”

Dame Hilda’s eyes were widening. “But as I wasn’t helping with the refreshments this year, I thought someone else…”

“You don’t mean you haven’t brought..?” Cressida’s hand flew to her mouth.

Dame Hilda staggered a little, and Dr. Hinge rose to steady her. “Hilda!”

“Thank you, dear. I felt a little faint for a moment.” Dame Hilda stared at my wife. “Cressida, you can’t truly mean that we are all going to have spend the day…”

Dame Hilda closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and opened them again.

_“...tealess?”_

My wife whimpered and I hurried to her side to put my arms around her.

Dr. Hinge rolled her eyes.

_“Hilda._ There’s plenty of fruit drinks.You’ll manage without tea for a few hours. And so will everyone else. ”

 

 

Unfortunately all the local shops had taken the occasion of the fete as an opportunity to close for the afternoon. But in a desperate attempt to gather _some_ tea, Dame Hilda briefly returned to Utopia Limited and came back with what little remained in their caddy, and Cressida and I also donated what tea we had at home. But this wasn’t much and once the fete was in full swing the refreshment tent quickly ran out.

The tension rapidly rose.

It was in retrospect probably a risky decision, Dame Hilda’s acceding to Mr. Butler’s request to sing ‘Tea For Two’. Mr. Ptolman Senior perhaps couldn’t be entirely blamed for throwing a current bun at the lady’s head, with what was startling accuracy for a man of his age. As the poor man was led weeping from the tent by his son, Dame Hilda, the Doctor and myself gathered together in the far corner to discuss things.

“We can’t go on like this,” said Dame Hilda. “They need their tea. Either we’re going to have a riot on our hands or they’re going to all go home.”

The Doctor sighed. “I have to admit you’re right.”

“But where are going to find any more?” I asked.

Dame Hilda’s eyes widened and she raised an emphatic finger. “Di Stefano’s!”

The Doctor furrowed her brow. “They’ll be closed too, surely.”

“The family lives above the tearoom, though,” said Dame Hilda. Her excitement was becoming apparent. “There’s just a chance someone will still be at home. I’m sure if we explain the situation they’ll sell us some tea.”

The good lady turned to me.

“Would you mind coming with me in the Rolls, Donald? I’m sure they won’t be able to refuse a man of the cloth.”

Dr. Hinge was frowning. “What about me? You can’t leave me to be the jukebox without a singer. Couldn’t Donald go on his own?”

“It’ll be faster in a car than Donald going on his bicycle,” said Dame Hilda.

“But we’ll be losing money!”

Dame Hilda pursed her lips. She stalked over to the piano and retrieved her handbag. She rummaged in it, pulled out some coins and deposited them in the box.

She spun round and faced her companion. “There! That’s £3.50! Start on an instrumental version of the Ring Cycle and we’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The Doctor sighed and sat down at the piano, and Dame Hilda and I made a discreet exit from the tent.

 

 

When we reached Di Stefano’s it was indeed closed. Dame Hilda rapped firmly on the front door but there was no reply.

“Perhaps if we look round the back..?” I suggested.

I followed Dame Hilda to the back door where we found a doorbell. Dame Hilda pushed on the bell but again there was no response.

Dame Hilda threw up her hands. “So that’s that then!”

I now have to make a shameful confession. It was at this point I was led into temptation.

“But look,” I said. I gestured discreetly at a window on the ground floor. “That is half-open. We could just…” I waved my hands vaguely. “...go in, find the tea, and leave a note explaining..?”

“Donald!”

Dame Hilda stared at me for a long, long moment.

Then she slowly winked.

_“Excellent_ idea.”

She giggled a little.

“Come on then!”

Leaning forward, she stalked cautiously in the direction of the window. I glanced behind us, and followed.

With a little effort Dame Hilda managed to push the window up. There was a kind of netting behind it, but she easily moved that out of the way.

She poked her head through, and then looked back at me. “I think it’s some kind of pantry, Donald. I can see lots of cakes.”

There was a sturdy-looking packing case not far away from where I was standing. I passed it to Dame Hilda, and she used it as a step to climb into the room.

I watched as she began opening cupboards. “Come and help me look, Donald!” she whispered, keeping her eyes on her search. “There must be tea somewhere!”

I carefully entered too, and began my own exploration.

“Aha!” said Dame Hilda suddenly.

I turned and saw her pointing at a large container in the open cupboard.

“Tea!”

We smiled at each other in our triumph.

It was at this point that Mr. Di Stefano threw open the door of the pantry, armed with a rolling pin.

“Oh, my—!” cried Dame Hilda, and the two of us tried simultaneously to climb back out of the window.

This of course did not lead to our escape but rather delivered the result of us knocking each other over. Dame Hilda, I believe, ended up in the mixed fancies and I ended face down amongst the cream fingers.

We both staggered to our feet—Dame Hilda removing a meringue from her hat—and turned to Mr. Di Stefano, keeping our heads bowed in shame. On the edges of my vision I could see him lowering the rolling pin.

“Dame Hilda..?”

He turned to me.

_“Vicar?”_

I looked up and smiled weakly.

 

 

After many explanations and apologies, and on promising to pay on Monday for the damaged cakes, we left bearing the large, catering-size container of loose-leaf tea.

We returned just in time. In the refreshment tent a crowd had gathered round Cressida and the other servers, loudly demanding tea. Dr. Hinge was still banging away on the piano but looked up as we entered with a pleading expression.

Proudly Dame Hilda stepped forward, and strode into the centre of the tent, clutching the container to her chest.

A hush fell and the desperate tea seekers stared at her.

Dame Hilda gazed steadily around at them all.

“The tea,” she announced with a calm dignity, “has arrived!”

There was complete silence for just a moment.

And then the place exploded into cheers. I do believe there might have been a little sobbing as well.

With a brilliant smile, Doctor Hinge leapt from her stool, and she, Dame Hilda and myself went to assist the ladies to begin brewing up and distributing the first batch. And when a little later everyone had drunk deeply and been sufficiently refreshed, Dr. Hinge managed to recoup some of our losses by donning her Gypsy Mona garb and reading the tea leaves.

And so, dear friends, that is the story of how our fete was saved. And why Di Stefano’s got the contract in perpetuity to supply the tea tent.


End file.
